“It’s him,” the scarred man muttered, his voice sharp and low. His dark eyes flicked toward the distance, though they seemed to focus on nothing. His grip tightened on the hilt of his black blade. “We were too slow, Mortem.”

Mortem tilted his head, the stitches binding his patchwork flesh cracking audibly. His eyes gleamed faintly with anticipation as his deformed lips curled into a sneer. “Good. Mortem likes prey that comes to Mortem.”

Through the haze of ash and smoke clinging to the ruined village, two figures emerged. The first was like a storm god. His storm-gray armor, etched with jagged, glowing runes, crackled faintly with lightning that danced across his giant, broad form. His helmet, forged from blackened metal, revealed dog-like yellow eyes beneath the open visor. On the giant’s shoulder rested a colossal hybrid weapon—Stormbreaker. The hammer edge sparked faintly, while the axe blade shimmered with a cold, lethal gleam.

Beside him strode an agile figure, his silver, lightweight armor bearing intricate lightning runes of its own. Unlike his companion, he wore no helmet, leaving sharp features visible under tousled dark hair. His expression was tense as he scanned the carnage ahead. A massive quiver of harpoon-sized arrows weighed heavily on his back, and in his hands, he carried a longbow humming faintly with aether.

Kael stopped midstride, his sharp eyes taking in the devastation. The bodies. The torn limbs. The dark stains splattered across rubble that still smoldered. His breath hitched, but his voice came low and controlled: “By Fulgur,” he muttered. “They didn’t just kill them. They tore them apart.”

Ragnar’s yellow eyes darkened as he surveyed the ruins. He didn’t speak at first, but the tightening of his grip on Stormbreaker said enough.

Kael’s gaze flicked to the aberrants standing further down the village square amidst the ruins. Erick’s pale body hung limply in Mortem’s clawed hand, head lolling to one side.

“Those things did all this?” Kael muttered.

“Likely,” Ragnar replied flatly. His voice held no emotion.

The scarred man stepped forward, his blade resting lazily on his shoulder. A mocking grin spread across his marred face. “Ragnar Falkir,” he sneered, voice dripping with disdain. “The Paragon’s hunting dog. And what did you bring? One archer? No legion? Not even a Martial Vanguard squad? What’s the plan here, Falkir? The two of you, against us?”

Kael adjusted the quiver on his back, throwing Ragnar a sharp look. “No reinforcements, boss? I kept asking. But nope, Ragnar doesn’t answer me.” He gestured to his arrows. “You know how much the Aegis charges me for one of these? Or how hard it is to lug this bloody quiver around? Or—”

Ragnar silenced him with a glare. “We didn’t know what we were walking into. I don’t waste lives. My orders were to investigate.”

Kael snorted. “Right. Investigation. Sounds great, until you drag me into this mess.” His tone turned grim as he eyed Mortem. “That thing’s a thrall, isn’t it? Look at the stitching—chaos work. Nothing natural about it.”

Mortem suddenly hurled Erick’s limp body to the side like a discarded toy. The boy crashed into a pile of rubble, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Kael stiffened, eyes darting toward Erick.

“Kael, move!” Ragnar barked, stepping forward to intercept Mortem.

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Kael blurred into motion, feet pounding against the cracked cobblestones. Mortem growled low in his throat, swiping at him with massive claws, but Kael twisted midstride, sliding beneath the strike.

In one fluid motion, Kael scooped Erick up, pivoted on his heel, and sprinted toward a wooden watchtower at the edge of the square.

“Mortem!” the scarred man shouted. “Stop him!”

Kael didn’t slow. He hit the brittle wooden ladder and climbed, the tower groaning under his weight. At the top, he laid Erick down and scanned the battlefield below.

Ragnar met Mortem head-on, Stormbreaker colliding with the abomination’s clawed hand in a deafening clash. The impact released a shockwave, shattering what little ground remained between them.

Mortem snarled, his patchwork arms lashing out. Ragnar sidestepped, deflecting one strike with the axe blade of Stormbreaker and slamming the hammer edge down onto Mortem’s shoulder. Bone cracked, and black blood sprayed across the ground.

“Slow,” Ragnar muttered, his tone sharp with disdain. “Predictable.”

High above, Kael steadied himself on the creaking platform. Erick’s chest rose and fell shallowly, his face streaked with blood and grime.

Kael nocked his first arrow, channeling aether into the massive projectile as he drew the bowstring back. His sharp gaze locked onto Mortem below. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see if you can take this.”

The arrow streaked through the air, slamming into Mortem’s chest with a deafening crack. The impact ripped through his patchwork body, leaving a gaping hole where flesh had once been.

Mortem staggered, roaring in pain.

“Yes!” Kael roared.

But his triumph was short-lived. Black tendrils of chaotic energy crawled across Mortem’s body, stitching the wound closed within seconds.

Kael cursed under his breath. Of course it regenerates.”

He fired again, and again, each arrow tearing chunks from Mortem’s body. But no matter how devastating the blow, the black tendrils repaired the damage as if nothing had happened.

“Ragnar!” Kael shouted, his voice strained. “This thing isn’t going down easy!”

Below, Ragnar didn’t glance up. “Then find its weakness.”

Kael’s sharp eyes scanned Mortem, crackling faintly with aether as he activated his skill. Faint pulses of chaotic energy radiated from beneath Mortem’s chest.

“There,” Kael muttered. He nocked his final arrow, pouring the last of his aether into the projectile. The glowing shaft hummed with power.

The arrow left the bow with a loud boom, streaking through the air and shattering Mortem’s chest. The chaos core, exposed and pulsing, shone like a dark star.

“I’ve done my part!” Kael shouted. “Ragnar, finish it!”

Ragnar surged forward, lightning crackling around his armor. Mortem sprouted two more patchwork arms, swinging all four wildly in desperation.

Ragnar smirked coldly. “Should’ve done that earlier.”

In one fluid motion, he leapt, bringing Stormbreaker down in an arc of thunder and light. The hammer smashed through Mortem’s arms and crushed the chaos core in an explosion of power.

Mortem howled, his voice fading as his massive body crumbled into ash.

The scarred man—snarled, his black eyes blazing. He sprinted toward the watchtower, moving like a shadow, his intent clear.

Kael saw him coming. “Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered.

Despite his exhaustion, Kael grabbed Erick and leapt from the watchtower. He hit the ground in a roll, Erick cradled against his chest, coming to a stop near Ragnar.

The man paused, his cold grin returning. “We’ll meet again, Falkir.” His body began dissolving into black mist. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

“And I’ll be waiting,” Ragnar growled.

Kael groaned, brushing off dust. “This kid better have answers.” His voice turned wry. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to find all those bloody arrows. Do you know how expensive they are?”

Ragnar ignored him, his sharp eyes on Erick. Suddenly, his expression tightened.

“Thrakk,” Ragnar muttered. “It’s a chaos core.”

Kael froze, disbelief flashing across his face. “You’re joking.”

“No,” Ragnar said, already lifting the boy over his shoulder. “We need to move. Now.”

Kael grabbed his quiver and followed, muttering as they disappeared into the haze. “Bloody chaos cores. Bloody missions. Bloody everything.”